by Lakshman, V.
Lilyth shook her head, a hint of exasperation showing itself before being quickly hidden behind her sapphire eyes. Then she sighed and began to talk more slowly, and Duncan felt like he was being spoken to like a dimwitted child.
“Like me, Valarius has long sought a true builder. This prisoner may be a good reason for the elven highlord to allow you into Avalyon. You meet an old friend, you come with gifts. He may even give you your wife in trade.”
At that, Duncan felt the barb. Give him his wife? His disgust at Lilyth rose to new heights but he kept it carefully hidden. He laughed instead, a short bark that brought raised eyebrows from the demonlord. Lilyth could not gain entrance to Avalyon with a thousand dwarves to trade. Valarius would never trust her enough to open his isle. But Duncan…
They had never been friends, and his haughtiness had put Duncan and many others off, but maybe he could convince Val to let him in. Having the dwarven prisoner might be just enough to convince the self-important archmage to treaty with him. Still, he kept his emotions carefully neutral and said, “It will not be easy.”
Lilyth cocked her head at that and asked, “Why?”
Duncan’s smile was derisive when he replied, “Because we hate each other. Always did. He’s a pompous tyrant, arrogant and overbearing. Mix the worst of a Galadine with an archmage of incredible power and you get an ass with a crown, thick-headed and stubborn. It’s no wonder he’s a thorn in your side. He’s been far worse to others.”
Lilyth seemed unprepared for that, and she fell back in her seat. Yet his statement did not seem to change her mind, and her fortitude was plain for even Duncan to see. He steeled himself as she rose and said, “You have your task. Accomplish it if you wish to see your family.”
And that, he realized, was it. He had no other argument. In the end she only cared about results. He was careful when he looked up at her, smiling in a way he hoped was agreeable, and said, “You’ll inform your men I come to take the prisoner?”
Lilyth leaned forward, her mouth slightly parted as if she were about to question him, the tip of a pink tongue delicately touching her white teeth. Then she leaned back again and said, “Of course, they will have clear orders to hand her over to you.”
She continued to look at him, blinking once like a reptile clearing its eyes, and said, “Do you know why we’ve never recovered a dwarven body until Bara’cor?”
Duncan had grown accustomed to the manner in which Lilyth approached things. It was seldom direct unless she was angry. Instead, she came at it from many angles, like a trained warrior fighting. This made him both interested to hear what she had to say and wary. In his experience, those who spoke well seldom had good intentions.
“They come for their own, Duncan.” Lilyth leaned back, “Their ability to shift gives them unfettered access to almost anywhere in the realm, and they retrieve the body from wherever it lies. Always.”
Duncan’s eyes narrowed as he thought this through. “They can enter here, yet they don’t attack? Why?”
Lilyth shrugged. “I don’t know. Until the dark assassins of Sovereign began their assaults on your people and mine, we never saw a dwarf. Even during the last war, not a single dwarf killed an Aeris.”
It was Duncan’s turn to scoff. “You forget I was there. The dwarven axers did their bloody work, just like the rest of us.”
“And killed the bodies of those possessed, but no Aeris died.” Lilyth closed her eyes, looking, it seemed, back in time. “Only Valarius and your mages caused us any real harm.” There was silence as the demonlord reminisced, but when she opened her eyes they bore into him like lances. “Killing an Aeris is harder than you think, but you and your kind have nonetheless proven yourselves up to the task. I remember your part well, and your stand at the Fall.”
“Valarius was out of control,” he replied simply.
“Perhaps, but your actions caused all of this.” She gestured around her. “Were it not for you, the Aeris would have achieved Unity already.”
“And Edyn would be lost.”
“Lost?” Lilyth laughed. “How does one blind from birth know what vision is?”
Duncan paused, careful how he answered next. “I’d do so again, but this time I’d not walk so blindly back to the Galadine line.” He looked around the chamber, his mind coming back to the prisoner. He looked at Lilyth and surmised, “But this tomb you found… they didn’t come for her?”
“Not yet,” she answered, “but she has awakened. It is unclear if they will try to effect a rescue.”
“That’s a huge chance you’re taking.”
“Coming from the man who has stretched the idea of ‘chance’ for almost two hundred years, it is hard to take you seriously.” Lilyth’s blue eyes danced with feigned amusement, a thin disguise beneath which true danger lurked. Then her expression changed to one of real earnest. He could tell she took what she said next very seriously. “But I’m not taking that chance, Duncan, you are. I hope for your sake that you’re wrong about you and Valarius being enemies, or I fear you walk to your death.”
To Duncan, she didn’t seem the least bit concerned for him, but rather resigned that one way or another, she was getting him out of her way. A sudden thought occurred so he turned to her and asked, “If the dwarven woman can shift as they can, how has she not escaped already?”
“Their ability is blocked by this.” She reached down and lifted a copper, ring-shaped torc Duncan knew all too well. “I see you recognize it.”
“A gift from the Galadines to the world.” Duncan spat, unable to hide his distaste or the fact that he’d felt powerless when Silbane had used the same thing on him.
Lilyth shook her head, correcting him, “A gift from Valarius to the Galadines.” She laid it back to rest and said, “Do you know what happens if this is put on an Aeris?”
When Duncan didn’t respond, she said simply, “I said they are hard to kill, but this insidious ring, this basest of metals, brings true death to my people. You worry about losing your connection to the Way when wearing this,” she said, looking at the collar, “but my children are the Way. They die when this collar closes upon them. One reason amongst many you should kill Valarius and feel nothing but pride.”
“Valarius created these?” Duncan asked softly, almost to himself.
Lilyth nodded. “Oh, I doubt anyone knew where they came from, but the Galadine magehunters put it to effective use.”
“And nearly wiped us out,” finished Duncan. “Why would he help to wipe out his own people?”
“What better way to get rid those who betrayed and left you here for dead? Throw in the fear of Aeris ‘demons’ and blame at my feet, and you have a world willing to kill those saving them from eradication. Give them a weapon to destroy us, and you foment war. In this I believe you when you say the archmage is a pompous tyrant.”
For a very brief moment sorrow etched her features, but she finished in a hard-edged voice, “Do whatever you need to do to get into Avalyon. That is the only outcome that will be rewarded.”
“I want to hear you say you’re offering me my wife and son, unharmed.”
“Get inside Avalyon and you will be reunited with your family.”
Duncan cocked his head at that, dread forming a pit in his stomach. He asked the question then, the one that a part of him did not want answered. “Do you know… is my wife truly captive?”
It was almost as if Lilyth knew what he was asking when she waved a hand dismissively and said, “I told you all may not be as you wished.”
Duncan did not know how to respond to that, for she’d not answered him definitively. “Captive” could mean more than one thing, but he did not want his mind to start dwelling on an idea that Sonya had stayed with Valarius willingly. The thought was too much to bear and threatened to spiral him out of control. The expression on Lilyth’s face said that she was not going to say any more, so he forced himself to focus on his present situation.
He looked around. The children continued their
play, running in and out of the obstacles made by adult legs or anything else, as kids were wont to do. This could not be her endgame, a nursery of thousands upon thousands of hostages. Then a thought occurred to him, and he pointed at the children and asked, “Why have you not possessed them already?”
Lilyth smiled, her eyes sparkling with something akin to hunger as she explained, “Purebloods may not be harmed, not even by Sovereign, as the First Laws decree. Possession would alter them. They would be mixed with my Furies and Sovereign would no longer stay his hand from the people of Edyn. So long as they stay purebloods we are at an impasse, a stalemate, as I said before.”
So they served her purpose now, unpossessed, but what about after? Then he remembered her words. We need bodies, Archmage.
His eyes narrowed as he asked, “And what happens when you win, Lady? When Sovereign is no more?”
Lilyth smiled and for the first time her face took on a feral, almost predatory look. “My people still need to live. What difference does it make whether it is you or your Lord Scythe that looks out from behind your eyes?” Her simple question made him rethink everything.
At that moment Duncan finally understood that Lilyth, for all her claims of being misunderstood and of having a virtuous cause, would remake the world too, only to suit her own needs. Her Furies would be the new race of Edyn, possessing these children and able to leave her realm with new bodies of their own. Families would welcome back their missing children and grandchildren, only to be possessed in turn. It was an insidious, different kind of war, designed this time to win without drawing a single blade.
He breathed in, knowing his life now hung in the balance of what he did next. If she did not feel he was truly aligned with her, he would not leave this castle alive. Lilyth would not chance his interference, so he played the only hand he’d been dealt. She was right, when survival was at stake, he could be exceedingly clever. He nodded slowly and said, “I’ll find a way to get to Valarius.”
Lilyth smiled and nodded back, “I have every confidence you will. And what will you do when you see him again?”
His pale eyes met her own deep blue ones, and a sardonic smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he answered, “I suppose everyone will get what they want.”
Training
Traitorous doubt, ever victorious over us
‘ere we give our task true attempt
- Rai’kesh, The Lens of Leadership
Lower!” Giridian shouted, his eyes never leaving Tomas’s stance. “When you’re comfortable, you’re vulnerable.” The boy took that moment to shake out his legs and reposition himself, which only caused the master to roll his eyes in frustration. What part of “comfortable” and “vulnerable” did he not understand?
Grabbing a thin rod the lore father moved in closer, striking the back of Tomas’s thigh with a painful thwack. “Get down!”
“Oww!” cried the boy, grabbing his hamstring and hopping out of reach of the rod.
The lore father moved in quickly, striking two more times to the other leg and arm, then upending his student onto his back. Tomas’s breath burst out with a whoosh as he slammed into the ground.
“What’s the matter with you?” Giridian demanded, poking him in the chest. He knew the boy was unharmed, and except for a bruised ego, no worse for the wear. “You’re acting like a White, mewling at pain and looking for breaks.”
Tomas looked away, and Giridian could sense fear and shame in the boy’s thoughts. Using that as a clue, he offered him a hand up, then pushed him back onto a waiting stool. “What’s going on?”
Tomas looked up, but not directly at the lore father, and one could see he did not have the confidence to meet his teacher’s gaze. “Nothing, Master.”
“Nothing?” Giridian looked away and then back, crouching so he was eye to eye with his student. “You’re distracted and fearful. You weren’t like this before, so I ask again. What’s going on? Answer me truthfully.”
The boy struggled with something, finally blurting, “They killed them right here and even the lore father couldn’t stop them!”
The assassins who had infiltrated and killed Thera and her students had left a lasting mark on the Isle. None had escaped unscathed from their attack, least of all Tomas. Giridian took a deep breath, then said, “You must remain focused. While this world allows for distractions, your upcoming Test doesn’t. You must redouble your efforts for we need another Adept to join our ranks.”
“What if I’m not ready?”
Giridian clapped the initiate on one burly shoulder. “You’re ready.”
“How do you know? Initiates fail all the time!” said the student, looking down at the ground.
“Tomas, you know everything you need to know. If there were an easier way than practice, I would be the first to show you, but there are no secrets or shortcuts. Training is the only way to pass the Test, and I cannot say more. Now, focus.” He raised the boy’s head up and met his gaze with a reassuring smile. “Believe in yourself.”
Tomas’s expression screwed up, his brows knitting over eyes squeezed shut. It was as if the boy was trying to forget a memory. Then the initiate rubbed a hand over this face and released a held breath. He was not going to let his master down, it seemed. Tomas turned to Giridian and nodded, saying, “Let me try again, Master.”
Giridian gave the boy a reassuring shake and stepped back, grabbing his stool and retreating to one side of the training area. There was so much work to do, yet it was in these moments that he felt he was accomplishing the most. He put the stool down and then sat heavily, signaling Tomas to begin.
The boy began with the ceremonial bow, but quickly leapt into his kata, his strikes precise and his stance strong. As the boy wheeled and struck, fighting imaginary opponents as he practiced how to execute perfection, Giridian listened to his rhythm and breathing. Any mistake the boy made would first manifest itself there. As he watched with one eye, his mind wandered, thinking through the many things they’d faced already.
It had been a few days since Dragor’s departure with Jesyn. The two Adepts would have made the coast by now, yet Giridian had not yet heard from them. While that wasn’t worrisome in and of itself, the idea of them facing those same assassins who had attacked the Isle did. Despite their prowess, Jesyn was untested as an Adept, and Dragor was young himself. Neither had the power or experience of Silbane or Kisan.
“Impressive.”
Giridian started at the voice to his right, and was more surprised when Thoth appeared, materializing out of thin air. He began to get up but the Keeper motioned for him to stay seated.
“Only you can see or hear me, Lore Father. How goes the training?” The Keeper’s eyes seemed to assess Tomas quickly, before looking back to Giridian again.
Giridian paused halfway up, then reseated himself and shrugged. “One cannot rush the day.”
“Poetic, but we both know this one must pass. Our ranks grow thin.”
Tomas whirled, striking out at unseen opponents. He executed a perfect flip over one and then jumped, spin-kicking another. His foot contacted the palm of his hand with a sound like a whip cracking before he landed without a bounce, his stance rock solid.
When Giridian didn’t answer, Thoth raised a hand and the scene slowed. Tomas had begun his jump, and now hung frozen in the air, pirouetting around imaginary foes as he reversed himself to strike something behind him. The entire world, it seemed, waited on Thoth’s next breath.
Giridian hung his head and asked, “Why? Answer me plainly or I won’t help. I can’t take more ambiguity.”
Thoth seemed to consider this for a moment, then said, “I have been excruciatingly honest with you, Lore Father. Why do our ranks grow thin? Because less and less of you prove worthy of Ascension, leaving more unbonded Aeris trapped in Lilyth’s realm. They are of little use there when the fight against Sovereign will be here, on Edyn. Some even lose hope and join the Lady’s ranks.”
Giridian sighed. This was not the first
time he and Thoth had spoken since their first encounter in the Vaults. The Keeper had kept true to his word and whenever new information had been discovered, he had shared it openly, though Giridian questioned the Keeper’s timing when revealing important facts.
Oh, he’d been correct that Arek needed to die but what had not been clear at that time was that Arek needed to die here, on Edyn. The fact that the boy had escaped to Lilyth’s realm meant dire consequences for everyone involved. If the boy was killed there, it would destroy the Aeris and leave Sovereign unchecked. Frustratingly, his inability to contact Kisan and amend her orders further complicated things.
Did that make the demon-queen and her armies allies of Edyn? Perhaps for a time, but Lilyth had no intention of rescuing his world. She meant to rule through possession and would see herself placed on the throne of both worlds. So a delicate balance had to be maintained, one where Lilyth could keep Sovereign in check, and Giridian’s Council and Thoth could keep Lilyth in check. Key to this, according to Thoth, were more Adepts able to take the fight to either realm.
The Lore Father’s head swam whenever he sat back to think about it. His mind was clearly not made for the complicated web being drawn between worlds. He preferred the straight fight, not these behind-the-scenes maneuverings. He had not appreciated Themun’s machinations, and appreciated it even less with Thoth. What he did know was training students, and when he cast a critical eye at Tomas, he could not lie to the Keeper.
“The boy is not ready. He doubts every step, which comes as no surprise. He saw his friend killed then the Isle attacked and the greatest of us felled by assassins.” He knew Thoth understood he meant Themun, and even now he could not bring himself to fully believe the lore father was gone.
“He will gain confidence,” said the Keeper. He took a moment to look at the boy before saying, “It will take effort but you are up to the task.”
“He doubts… do you understand that will kill him?
“We have no other option.”
“We can delay—”
